She is like a mathematical equation, always there and impossible to disprove.
Of course people mutilate and modify, but these are fallen powers, and to change something you do not understand is the true nature of evil.
And then I saw that the running away was a running towards. An effort to catch up with my fleet-footed self, living another life in a different way.
There is a further trouble; no matter how meticulous the scientist, he or she cannot be separated from the experiment itself. Impossible to detach the observer from the observed. A great deal of scientific truth has later turned out to be its observer’s fiction. It is irrational to assume that this is no longer the case.
My passion for her showed me the difference between inventing a lover and falling in love. The one is about you, the other about someone else.
I won’t eat what I can’t kill. It seems shoddy, hypocritical.
The Future is Now. That annoys me because if the future is now, where is the present?
Perhaps all romance is like that; not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in everyday life.
If the universe is movement, it will not be in one direction only. We think of our lives as linear but it is the spin of the earth that allows us to observe time. Walk with me.
Be with someone you don’t want to be without.
She found that the whole world could be contained in one place because that place was herself. Nothing had prepared her for this.
What is a memory anyway but a painful dispute with the past?
Once out of the body you will be able to choose any form you like, and change it as often as you like. Animal, vegetable, mineral. The gods appeared in human form and animal form, and they changed others into trees or birds. Those were stories about the future. We have always known that we are not limited to the shape we inhabit.
We walked in silence. Nature can cancel thought. We needed to walk and there was nothing more to say.
I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices under water.
The trouble with books is that you don’t know what’s in them ’till is too late.
You can’t make sense of your passion for life in the face of death, you can only give up your passion. Only then can you begin to survive.
I love the natural world and I never ceased to see it. The beauty of the trees and fields, of hills and streams, of the changing colours, of the small creatures so busy and occupied. My long hours walking or sitting in the field with my back against the wall, watching the clouds and the weather, allowed me some steadiness. It was because I knew all this would be there when I was not that I thought I could go. The world was beautiful. I was as speck in it.
And if the road leads nowhere?’ He shrugged. ‘Turn your Nowhere into Somewhere.
Why doesn’t every mother believer her child can change the world? The child can. This is the joke. Here we are still looking for a saviour and hundreds are being born every second. Look at it, this tiny capsule of new life, indifferent to your prejudices, your miseries, unmindful of the world already made. Make it again? They could if we let them, but we make sure they grow up just like us, fearful like us. Don’t let them know the potential that they are.